


The Ground You Walk On

by 8makes1cheese



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Boys Kissing, Choi San is Whipped, Homophobia, Implied Sexual Content, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, Kissing in the Rain, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Minor Character Death, Tags Are Hard, Threats of Violence, dw everything's gonna be ok, it's just implied tho, lots of kissing lol, no actual smut because i'm a child of god, no beta we die like fools, seonghwa deserves better :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:28:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 13,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21992959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8makes1cheese/pseuds/8makes1cheese
Summary: 1802 is a bad year to fall in love. For Choi San, at least.It's the year his mother died, the year his brother ran away, the year his sister got sick, the year his father began beating him. It's the year he began smoking and the year he discovered that the gentlemen in their tailored suits caught his eye far more than the women in their fancy dresses. It's the year he stopped even pretending to care about the world around him anymore. And it's the year Jung Wooyoung, disowned son of the Choi family's greatest enemy, walked by him on the street and stole his heart.Alternatively, San is tired, an idiot and madly in love.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 54
Kudos: 267





	1. xxx

1802\. 

A dark, rainy, gloomy day. 

A small graveyard. 

A young man crouches on the hard, cold ground by a new grave, his thin hand resting on the cold headstone. His head is bent. People passing by shake their heads in sympathy, sending up a soft prayer to the very God who took this soul away, that this young man will heal quickly. They see his apparent tears and pretend to be sorry. He knows better; they couldn't care less what happens to him or what happened to his mother. His shoulders shake. 

He's not crying, however. His name is Choi San, he's nineteen years old, his mother is dead, and he is laughing. 

Laughing, not like a carefree child or an excited youth, but like someone taken by insanity, the hollow, broken laugh of a man who has nothing left to live for. 

For really, what does Choi San have left to live for? 

He rises, hands in his pockets, and mumbles something in the direction of the grave. He's not laughing now, but his shoulders still shake. He inhales, turns, and stalks haughtily to the gate, head held high and eyes sparkling with tears. Choi San will not cry. He will not. 

He stands in the gateway and watches people go by. Men in suits, women in gowns, all with umbrellas and pinched looks on their painted faces. No emotion, no purpose, nothing to catch his eye. Just faces, blank faces that are all the same. 

Except they're not. 

He freezes. 

He stands still. 

And the boy stops too, his pale hair wet from the rain. He has no umbrella, nor does he have a pinched look on his face. There's dark liner around his eyes, glitter on his eyelids, colour in his cheeks. His clothes cling delicately to his figure. His face is unreadable, but not because there is nothing to read; because there is too much, there are too many stories behind those eyes for Choi San to see or understand. 

He's the most beautiful creature San has ever seen. 

Their eyes meet. San's breath catches, his heartbeat speeds up. He feels so different. His skin tingles, not from cold but from the stranger's stare, those gorgeous eyes looking right into his for a moment he will never forget.

And then he's gone. The rain seems to beat harder around San, sticking his dark hair to his cheeks and drenching his clothes until he shivers with cold. Yet for the first time since the new year struck, he feels truly alive, like the beautiful blonde boy struck a chord in his heart that had never played before. 

Choi San turns. He walks home. He doesn't notice the blank faces, or the rain, or the cold. He walks in a trance, his eyes looking but not seeing, his skin covered in goosebumps. Choi San has nothing left to live for, but here he stands, alive.


	2. so it continues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brighter day.

Hongjoong loves the smell of chocolate. 

His baking skills are poor at best; his cooking skills are nonexistent, but when it comes to candymaking, no one does it like him. He doesn't know how or why he was blessed with this talent, but people love it, coming by his shop constantly to buy more of the sugary wonders he creates. 

Especially one person. He's here more often than not, really. 

"Hwa," Hongjoong chides gently. "Your teeth are going to be ruined if you eat any more chocolate drops. They look a little worse to me even now." 

He's lying, of course. The taller's teeth are flawless. 

Seonghwa pouts slightly, slipping the candy onto his tongue anyway. "They taste so good, it's almost worth it." 

He retreats to the back of the room, away from the candies. "Almost." This earns a soft laugh from Hongjoong, who proceeds to slip off his gloves, cover the just-finished candies, and join the other on the bench. They sit in comfortable silence for a moment before Hongjoong says, "You look different today." 

"I cut my hair," Seonghwa says shyly. "I was wondering when you would notice." 

Hongjoong smiles, casually running a hand over Seonghwa's dark, silky hair. "It looks pretty. You're very pretty, Hwa." 

Seonghwa straightens slightly, his lips quirking. 

"Oh, you know it's true," Hongjoong laughs. "Haven't your servants told you?" 

Seonghwa's smile dims. "They say not to smile. They say my smile makes me look childish and stupid." 

"Oh, I need to talk with them," Hongjoong says in mock anger. Maybe he really is a bit angry; at the very least, he's definitely hurt. Who would say that to someone as gentle and beautiful as Seonghwa? "Your smile is lovely." 

Seonghwa's cheeks go pink. "Thank you." 

He shouldn't be doing this. Hongjoong shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be flirting like a lovestruck schoolboy; Seonghwa is no schoolgirl, he's a nobleman's child, rich, handsome, spoiled and famous, and most importantly a man just like Hongjoong. He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't feel such joy at the soft pink color Seonghwa's cheeks have turned, he shouldn't feel shivers at the low tone of the taller's voice, he shouldn't want to kiss those pretty lips or hold those slender hands, and yet he does; he wants all of it. He wants Seonghwa. He wants Seonghwa, and he can never have him. 

\----

San doesn't know what made him do this. 

Why is he here, standing by the gate of the graveyard, umbrella in hand, as though waiting for someone? There is almost no chance of him ever encountering the beauty from the day before last again, yet here he stands like an idiot, waiting for someone who will not come. There's no rain in the air, only mist, nothing to justify the large green umbrella in his thin hand. San almost laughs. He must look ridiculous. 

"You look ridiculous." 

He jumps. For a second, he dares to hope it's the boy he saw before. Then he assures himself that's stupid, and turns, nearly dropping his umbrella when those eyes meet his again. 

"Are you deaf?" Pretty Boy asks. He doesn't sound mocking; he seems genuinely curious. "I'm sorry I said that. Oh-" he cuts off, breathless. "I know you, don't I? I saw you here before." 

He remembers me. 

"Do you always come here?" Pretty Boy looks around. "It's rather a gloomy place to haunt regularly, isn't it?" 

"This is-" San coughs. "This is only the third time I've been here." 

"You can hear me!" Pretty Boy sounds delighted. "Do you remember me?" 

How could I forget you? 

"I think so. Yes." 

Pretty Boy turns dreamily. "When I come to places like this, I feel like I can hear voices. The wind maybe- or the voices of the dead?" He laughs, unfitting for such a dark expression of thought. "If the dead spoke to me, they would most likely say something similar to 'Wooyoung, you are an idiot.' They wouldn't be wrong." 

So his name is Wooyoung.

"I feel like an idiot right now," San says. "I mean- look at my umbrella." 

They both stare at the umbrella for a moment, then burst into laughter. 

So very, very unfitting for a graveyard. 

"I hate this world," Wooyoung says, and his laughter is turning to tears. 

"Survival is fucking misery," San chokes, and for a long time they cry together, and then they grasp hands and part again with the mutual silent agreement to return. 

It's a dark world, and Choi San is a very miserable person. But now, at least, he can't say that he is lonely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It says 'author is sleep deprived' for a reason sis it's 11 P.M


	3. the way you smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a ray of hope.

Yunho hates dark days. 

He hates the way the sunlight disappears, the clouds covering everything in a cold, depressing blanket. He hates the way mist hangs in the air, never moving, just a gloomy haze blurring his view of the things around him. Yunho isn't a gloomy person. He hates days like this. 

Mingi seems to hate them too, if the way he stays silent for their entire walk says anything. Yunho feels a pang every time he looks at Mingi. He wishes they could be true friends, without the barrier between rich and poor. It's not that he's begging for money, and he certainly doesn't want Mingi to lose his- he just wishes society would change, so that he could stand next to Mingi as a friend and comrade, instead of a servant, always below him. He lets out a little sigh.

Mingi looks up and pulls a small smile. "Are you all right?" 

"I'm just sorry," Yunho says quietly. 

Mingi stays quiet. Yunho doesn't doubt that he understands. 

"Will you stay in my room with me tonight?" Mingi asks. "I'll lock the door." 

Yunho smiles slightly. "All right." 

They've done this before. Mingi has allowed Yunho a night in his room, sitting on the bed next to him and talking, stroking his hair until he falls asleep. They're Yunho's favorite nights. 

But lock the door; always lock the door. If anyone saw, Yunho would lose everything. A servant should never treat their superiors as anything but what they are: 

Better. 

\-----

The Choi family has always hated the Jungs, and the Jungs have always returned the sentiment. 

Yet, when Wooyoung tells San his family name, and San in turn tells his, nothing seems to change. It's almost as though knowing of the family feud makes them want to spend more time together, perhaps out of pure spite; at any rate, San finds himself growing closer and closer to the pale-haired boy, knowing more and more about him as the days go by. He wonders what Wooyoung thinks when he looks at him, what he feels. Probably distaste. 

It's only when one day Wooyoung smiles while running to greet him that San realizes what he, himself, is feeling. He almost laughs. Isn't this just his luck. 

"San!" Wooyoung greets, as cheerful as ever.

"Wooyoung," he breathes, and he feels a strain at his heart. He wants to catch Wooyoung in his arms, to hold him there and never let him go. He swallows. Don't think that, San. Don't think. 

Wooyoung is talking, but San is barely hearing. Everything seems a little brighter, the contaminated city air a little cleaner. He wants to live. He wants to live....

Choi San wants to live. 

He smiles like he hasn't smiled in so long. "Wooyoung," he says, on his feet in an instant, "let's not stay here. Let's walk." 

And Wooyoung complies. 

Today is as dark and cold as when they first met, but everything is different. He has no reason to be alive, yet for the first time since he lost everything, Choi San wants to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> excuse this piece of crap. I always end up writing these in the middle of the night.


	4. so we try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> darkness always falls.

Hongjoong worries too much. 

He's often been told this, too often. When he asks questions, it's always the same answer- "Hongjoong, stop worrying." "Stop overthinking, Hongjoong." "Nothing is wrong, Hongjoong, you worry too much." Yet, he argues, he's usually right, and when he senses something wrong it means there is something wrong. So when Seonghwa appears at his door without his signature smile, bending his head, Hongjoong's heart leaps in fear immediately. 

"Are you all right?" He whispers, rushing over to place a gentle hand on Seonghwa's shoulder. 

"Yes," Seonghwa murmers. He inhales. "No." 

He lifts his head. Hongjoong bites down on his lip so hard it draws blood. 

There's a horrible bruise on Seonghwa's left eyelid, the skin painfully discolored and swollen. His eye is scrunched shut as though he's in terrible pain, which he undoubtedly is. Hongjoong gasps and grabs for a rag, dipping it in a pot of water and folding it to press gently to Seonghwa's injured eye. "What happened?" 

"My father doesn't like my hair, I guess," Seonghwa attempts a joke, with a soulless laugh. He winces at the touch of the cloth against his closed eye, but doesn't complain. "He has no sense of fashion." 

There's a silence. 

Seonghwa gives a defeated sigh. "It really was my hair. I was not joking. I cut it off by myself, out of spite, I suppose, and he was... unhappy at my disregard of his rules. I defied him, and.... you can see what happened." 

Hongjoong swallowed. "Has he beaten you before?" 

"Oh, by hell he has," Seonghwa snorts. "Nearly every day. Like I'm a bloody animal- even animals don't deserve that kind of treatment. I-" he stops. "I'm complaining. I'm so sorry. I'll be quiet now." 

"If you need me, just come," Hongjoong says quietly. "It doesn't matter when or why. If you ever need someone, I'm always here. Come to me." 

Stay with me. You don't have to leave. You don't have to go back there.... 

Seonghwa embraces him silently, which Hongjoong takes to mean he will follow this advice; if anything goes wrong, he will come here first. Hongjoong sits quietly beside Seonghwa, wanting so badly to be able to say what was on his mind. All of it. Every thought he's ever had of the beautiful young man next to him, even the ones he should never have even thought, much less spoken aloud. Fantasies he's tried to push away, to drown. They emerge again every time he looks at Seonghwa. Beautiful. Even like this, he's beautiful. 

"I don't like to depend on people," Seonghwa says quietly. "But I'll admit it. I do need you. I need you more than I care to say." 

Hongjoong's breath catches. "I'm always here." 

"I'm glad," Seonghwa whispers. It's barely audible, but Hongjoong knows him well enough to know it was meant to be heard. 

\---

San puts his cigar out rather viciously, stomping on the ashes as though they've personally offended him. 

Wooyoung sighs. "Rough day?" 

"I miss my family," San says aggressively. "I miss when we were all right." 

Wooyoung shakes his head sadly. "Darling, I know. I know. I miss mine too." He strokes San's hair with a gentleness that tugs at San's heartstrings. They're hiding out in an alleyway behind an abandoned building, and though they've been here for a while, this is the first they've spoken. 

San stares at the ground. "What would you do, if I asked you to do something crazy?" 

He really doesn't know Wooyoung. He may have seen and spoken to him what feels like thousands of times, but what has Wooyoung ever revealed about himself? San knows his personality, but no matter how hard he thinks, he can't come up with anything secret or special that Wooyoung, from one friend to another, has told him. It stings a little. 

"I would do it," Wooyoung says. "Because it's you." 

Kiss me. 

San looks him in the eye. "I'll remember that." 

He doesn't say it. 

He wants to. 

He wants to say it more than anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I a l w a y s write these at night I- 
> 
> this story is dumb but i love ateez and i wanna write stuff so I'll keep going i guess :D


	5. we always fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San doesn't know Wooyoung.

Hongjoong has a dream. 

In his dream, he's standing on top of a mountain. He feels as though he can see the whole world. A warm hand is clasped in his, and his body is pressed closely against someone else. It's oddly warm for such high altitude, and Hongjoong feels a sense of peace and relaxation spread over him. 

His eyelids flutter open. For a moment he lies still, confused, begore remembering. He catches his breath, not daring to move. Seonghwa is here, curled up on his bed, Hongjoong's bed, sound asleep. His breathing is steady, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Hongjoong's heart aches with the urge to kiss him. He restrains himself. 

"Hwa," he says softly. "It's morning. Wake up." 

Seonghwa groans quietly and sits up. Hongjoong shivers, cold without the taller's body heat. His ears burn as he realizes what close proximity they slept in. He leaps out of bed and rushes to prepare the shop. 

Seonghwa follows, mumbling under his breath, squinting in the sunlight. His eye looks better today, Hongjoong thinks in relief. He begins casually setting out supplies. 

"It's so cold," Seonghwa murmers. "My cheeks feel cold." 

Hongjoong turns to face him. He places down his supplies and cautiously kneels to cup Seonghwa's cheeks in his hands. "Better?" 

Seonghwa doesn't meet his eyes. "Yes... I'm all right now, thank you." 

Hongjoong starts to pull away. Seonghwa stops him. 

"A little longer?" He says quietly. 

Hongjoong silently agrees, remaining on the floor before Seonghwa for a long time, hands pressed softly to the elder's face. It's an undeniably romantic position, but Hongjoong refuses to think about that now. 

He wonders what goes on in Seonghwa's mind. What is the other thinking about him? What does he even mean to Seonghwa, who is so very different from him? Does he mean anything at all? 

He hopes so, because to him, Seonghwa is everything. 

\-----

San doesn't know Wooyoung.

He doesn't. He doesn't know anything beyond his name and his personality. But he wants to know; he wants to know Wooyoung. He wants to know it all. 

They're in the alley again. San has put his cigar out and is leaning against a wall, eyes half closed, while Wooyoung bathes his cuts. San took quite a beating last night, worse even than usual. Though the injuries ache, what aches more is feeling Wooyoung's gentle hands on his body and knowing it can never be how he wants it to be. 

A few minutes pass in silence. At last Wooyoung finishes his job. He looks at San thoughtfully for a moment, then says, "No one can see us here." 

"That is true," San says lazily. "No one can." 

"What would you do if I asked you to do something crazy?" Wooyoung asks, echoing San's own question. He arches an eyebrow questioningly and waits.

"I'd do it," San responds instantly. "What do you want me to do?" 

"Listen to me and don't say a word." 

San shifts his weight and opens his eyes a little wider. "I'll be completely silent." 

There's a pause. A sigh. 

"My family disowned me," Wooyoung says flatly. 

San doesn't reply. 

Wooyoung bites his lip. "Aren't you going to... say something?" 

"You told me not to." 

"Oh. Uh, you can say something now." 

"I.... don't care," San says. He stretches, looking Wooyoung directly in the eye. "Really. You're still Wooyoung, and that's what matters to me." 

Wooyoung winces. "Does that change if I tell you what I was disowned for?" 

"What was it?" San asks. 

Wooyoung pauses. "I'll tell you later." 

"I want something from you now, too," San says. 

"Anything." 

"Let me hold you. Just for a moment." San opens his arms, and Wooyoung steps willingly into them. They embrace in silence, San having no words to express what he's feeling, with Wooyoung pressed up against him so closely. He has so many words he wants to say, but he can't, he never could. So he settles for silence, Wooyoung's arms around him and his eyes stinging as though with tears. 

It occurs to him that now, at least a little, he can say he is beginning to know Wooyoung.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhhhhh
> 
> Star 1117 made me cry
> 
> enjoy this piece of junk


	6. again, we rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brand of an outcast.

San can't sleep. 

He's tried lying still, he's tried pacing the room, he's tried drinking a warm drink, but nothing seems to be able to make him sleep. Twice he gets up, heads for the door, and turns back at the last minute. Finally, he makes his decision and creeps outside, down the street towards the graveyard.

Wooyoung won't be there. That he knows for sure. It's the middle of the night, after all... but this place has become his refuge. Somewhere he can truly let it all out, alone. 

Except, he realizes as he slips through the gate, he isn't alone. 

There's a figure kneeling on the ground by the bench, shoulders shaking, low, painful sobs tearing from his throat. It is definitely an adult man, San decides. He has a hat on, pulled down over his ears, and a fancy coat. A rich boy. San rolls his eyes. 

Then the man stands. He reaches up very slowly, as though making a very difficult decision, and pulls off his hat. 

His hair is cropped almost completely off, so that he's nearly bald. There's a letter shaved into the back of his head, a foreign character. San knows it. He's not sure how or why, but he knows. It means outcast. 

Abruptly, the man turns his head. A shaft of moonlight hits his face. San nearly gasps. 

He's beautiful. Not in the way that Wooyoung is beautiful, warm and comforting and oh he makes San's heart beat so fast- no, this man is different; he looks like a marble statue, unreal, like there's no possible way he's actually from this world. 

San turns and runs. He can't be seen, he just can't. He doesn't know why, but the man terrifies him, or rather the thought of him terrifies him; what did he do to earn that brand, what did he do that brought him to his knees on the ground of an old graveyard in the middle of the night? San runs. 

He doesn't look back once. 

\----

Hongjoong paces the shop.

It's past midnight, and Seonghwa hasn't appeared yet. This has happened before, and there was nothing wrong, yet Hongjoong can't help but worry. He knows he can't sleep until he's sure Seonghwa is all right. Just as he's about to get his coat and go find him, there's a frantic knock on the door and he opens it to see Seonghwa, face ashen, eyes wild. He stumbles through the doorway and falls to his knees. 

"What happened?" Hongjoong gasps out. "Are you all right?" 

Seonghwa just heaves another painful breath. Hongjoong puts a hand under his chin and tilts his face upward. "Darling, say something, please. Did something happen?" 

"I ran all the way here," Seonghwa breathes. "They're looking for me." 

"Who are? Hwa, what is going on?" 

"My brother and his... his servant. They're looking for me. They're going to bring me to my father... he wants to send me away. He knows, Hongjoong. He knows..." Seonghwa's voice trails off despairingly. 

"Send you where?" Hongjoong demands. 

"I don't know," Seonghwa practically wails. "Away, that's all I can say. Somewhere unpleasant." 

"Why?" Hongjoong is beyond confused. 

"I wrote about you," Seonghwa says. "In a book I have. He found it, and he read it. And now he knows." 

"I don't understand," Hongjoong murmers. He holds Seonghwa tighter. 

"He punished me," Seonghwa says. "Look." 

He pulls his hat off, and his beautiful hair is gone. 

Hongjoong swallows. He runs a tentative hand over Seonghwa's shaved head, silently sending up a prayer of thanks that it was only this and not something worse. He pauses at the back of Seonghwa's head. There's a character cut there. He knows it. Outcast.

"You'll be so disgusted with me," Seonghwa says shakily. There are tears in his eyes. "You'll hate me." 

"I could never hate you," Hongjoong says passionately. 

"But I'm-" Seonghwa closes his eyes. Hongjoong pulls him in to a close embrace, the taller's head resting on his chest. He doesn't understand, but Seonghwa is hurting, and that hurts him too. 

"What was in the book?" He asks softly. 

"You," Seonghwa repeats. "Just you." 

He sits up. "I'll tell you a secret, Hongjoong. I love it when you call me pretty. I love the way you talk to me, love the way you smile at me, how you look at me. It's so wrong, Hongjoong, so damn wrong, but I can't do anything about it, I think things about you and I write them, and he knows..." Seonghwa's tears are rolling down his cheeks now. Hongjoong's heart aches. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

"Should I go back?" Seonghwa whispers. "I was the one at fault. I wrote it. Should I turn myself in, apologize, accept whatever he has waiting for me? I should.... I should go back." 

"You aren't going back," Hongjoong says fiercely. "Look, at me, love. You're not going back. You're staying right here with me." It wasn't supposed to be like this...

He opens his arms, and Seonghwa practically falls into them, burying his face in Hongjoong's chest and sobbing. Hongjoong wants nothing more than to destroy everything and everyone that ever hurt Seonghwa, and then hold the taller in his embrace forever and never, ever let go. He presses a kiss to the poor shorn head. Seonghwa cries like his heart is broken. 

It was never supposed to be like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I'm tired and scared and gay lol here's Seongjoong drama and luv


	7. rebuild a broken kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The power smiles hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE UPDATE YO I HATE LIFE AND I LOVE ATEEZ 
> 
> mentions of sex and uh idk what this chapter even is but hi Yeo & Jongho :D

Yeosang's feet hurt. 

He's been dancing for hours on end, but Miss Para still doesn't end the lesson. Yeora looks as graceful as a swan, spinning and leaping beautifully, ever move flawless. Yeosang moves more stiffly, not possessing his twin sister's incredible ability to never get tired. He would probably have collapsed right now if Jongho wasn't watching. For some reason, he feels very compelled to impress the younger. 

Yeora smiles as she finishes her routine with a flourish. Miss Para smiles at her, or as close to a smile as Miss Para comes; her stiff face rarely shows a smile, and when it does, it never reaches her eyes. 

Yeosang ends alongside his sister, letting out a sigh of relief when Miss Para announces the lesson is over. As soon as the lady leaves the room, Jongho claps and whistles. 

"Impressive," he calls, and Yeosang feels proud. 

"Thank you, Jongho," Yeora says primly. "If you lads will excuse me, I shall retire to my room." She sweeps out of the ballroom with her head held high. 

"Miss perfect princess," Yeosang snorts. 

Jongho grins. "You were tired." 

"You could tell?" 

"I could. You didn't smile." Jongho stands. "Let's go to the music room." 

Jongho, loyal forever to his singer roots. 

"All right." 

Yeosang flashes a smile at him as they leave. Jongho's eyes light up. 

Yeosang reminds himself to smile more often. 

\----

San coughs. It hurts. 

Wooyoung lets out a sigh. "San, if you don't stop smoking you'll end up dead." 

"I'll end up dead anyway," San says gloomily. "What's the point?" 

"Me. I'd be lonely." 

San puts out his cigar. "That's no good. Don't make me feel guilty for hating life." 

"Do you hate it?" Wooyoung asks. 

Does he? 

He doesn't know. 

San chooses to respond with a shrug. "It has you in it. Besides that, it's pretty damn dreary, I'd say."

"You're.... not in a good mood." 

"I am not. What does it mean when someone is branded an outcast?" 

Wooyoung looks surprised. "It means they were thrown away by family or superiors, usually. For something wrong they did. Except often, they did nothing wrong." He pauses. "I have the brand burned into my shoulder blade. How did you know?" 

"I didn't," San says quietly. "I saw... someone else." 

Wooyoung looks at the ground. 

"I was thrown out for going to bed with a servant," he says. 

San's head snaps up. That was unexpected. 

"Oh." He blinks, unsure what to say. "Uh, was she... any good?" 

"San!" Wooyoung smacks him. "Although.... he wasn't bad." 

He. 

San raises an eyebrow. "Really." 

"San, please." Wooyoung sighs. "You're not... mad? Or disgusted?" 

"I'm not." San shrugs. "Are you... all right? Do you need to talk? About your family, the brand-" 

"I need..." Wooyoung wraps his arms around San instead of finishing his sentence. San doesn't protest, but closes his eyes and relaxes his body. 

Jung Wooyoung. What a wonder he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you ever just.... hate your own art


	8. can a better day come?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things will always change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for doing the bare minimum with Woosan- I'm very tired and uninspired

Yeosang hates to see Jongho hurt. 

It may only be a bruise, caused by simply hitting his shoulder against a wall accidentally, but Yeosang still feels a pang at how Jongho winces slightly, trying to keep his expression neutral. 

"You all right?" Yeosang asks quietly. 

Jongho glances over. "Yes, fine." 

He turns back to the music sheets he's looking through. He's looking for one song in particular, one he and Yeosang wrote. From. They haven't put together much of it, but it's something. 

There's a knock on the door. Yeosang glances up and is about to call "Enter," when the door swings open and Yeora is standing there. She looks scared. 

"He's gone!" She gasps. "They can't find him anywhere..." 

Yeosang knows who she means. A year ago, their parents met with a man, an authority figure, and engaged Yeora to marry his son. She had only met him thrice, but they had formed a bond- not love, not a romance, but at best a friendship. And he was gone. 

"He's run off?" Jongho asks. 

"I don't know," Yeora moans. "I don't know." 

"Yeora." Yeosang stands, striding over to put an arm around his sister. "Breathe, all right? Inhale, good, now exhale. Seonghwa's fine." 

"Seonghwa is fine," she repeats.

"And so are you." 

"So am I." 

He wants to believe it. He knows she does, too. 

By chance, Yeosang meets Jongho's eyes. He stops, a hundred thousand questions arising in his brain, questions he doesn't dare ask. Jongho has never looked at him like that. 

Or if he has, Yeosang hasn't seen it. 

\-----

They haven't spoken about it. 

Hongjoong has gotten used to being around Seonghwa constantly. He's adjusted to waking up mere inches from him, thankfully; he almost had a heart attack that first morning. He's used to hiding Seonghwa away where his father can't find him. It almost feels normal. 

But they haven't spoken about Seonghwa's confession. 

I love it when you call me pretty.

Hongjoong slips his gloves off of his hands. "You're pretty," he says softly. 

Seonghwa looks up, startled. He's not wearing his hat, so his cropped hair is clearly visible. He looks tired, his eyes rather red and his clothes rumpled. Yet, Hongjoong's speaking the truth; he still looks pretty. 

"Me?" He says, almost squeakily. Hongjoong's heart does an odd flip. 

"Who else would I be talking to?" He crosses the room to sit next to Seonghwa. "You are pretty." 

"Hongjoong," Seonghwa says in a small voice. "Are you teasing me?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Are you mocking me? Because I said-" 

"That you like being called pretty? I'm not mocking you. I'm paying a compliment where a compliment is due." 

"I don't just like being called pretty," Seonghwa mumbles. "I only like it when it's you." 

Oh. Right. 

Hongjoong is silent for a moment. He runs a hand thoughtfully over Seonghwa's shorn head. 

"I like your hair," he says. "How it is now." 

Seonghwa snorts. "I'm sure you do." 

"I do," Hongjoong says sincerely. "It makes you more... here. I don't know if that makes sense." 

Seonghwa looks at him for a long time, and oh, Hongjoong wants to kiss him so bad. 

"I think I understand," he says. 

That's good, because Hongjoong doesn't know if his brain is functioning well enough to explain right now. 

\----

San sleeps. He sleeps more deeply than he has since her death, and in his dreams he sees Wooyoung, beautiful, kind and so interesting, looking at him with love in his eyes. When San wakes up, he stares at the ceiling for a long time, deep in thought. 

What is Jung Wooyoung to him, really? What is he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally cancelled this and almost sobbed- 
> 
> I remade it pretty close to the original though
> 
> Seongjoong are so fluffy in this chapter lol-


	9. help me stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it love?

1802 is a bad year to fall in love, for Choi San, at least.  
It's the year his mother died, the year his brother ran away, the year his sister got sick, the year his father began beating him. It's the year he began smoking and the year he discovered that the gentlemen in their tailored suits caught his eye far more than the women in their fancy dresses. It's the year he stopped even pretending to care about the world around him anymore. And it's the year Jung Wooyoung, disowned son of the Choi family's greatest enemy, walked by him on the street and stole his heart.

San has accepted it by now; he has feelings, deep feelings, for the light-haired boy. What he hasn't accepted is that someday, he'll have to do something about it. He can't go on miserably pining until he withers away into but a shell of his former self, crying hopelessly over lost chances until he dies. Actually, that is an option, but San doesn't want that to happen. 

He's not really entirely sure what he does want to happen. 

\----

1802 is the best year to fall in love, for Jung Wooyoung, at least. 

It's the year he lost his family, his home, his name and his honor, and his virginity, along with everything else. It's the year he thought nothing would ever get better, and that from now on he was trapped inside an eternal nightmare. It's the year he decided to stop even trying, to wander the streets aimlessly until he dies. But then he walked past Choi San near the graveyard and a light began burning in his heart again. 

In San's eyes, Wooyoung sees more than just a lonely boy with a dark past. He sees, pushed down so far it's almost invisible, something no one else would see; a faint glimmer of hope. Hope for San, that his heart will heal from the wound his mother's death left, hope that his brother will return and his sister will recover and his father will begin to treat him like a son again. Hope for Wooyoung, that he can climb back up from beneath the ruins of his life, from pain and mistakes that are pinning him down. Hope that they can find what it is they truly want from each other. 

Is it love? 

Is that what they want? 

Is it a refuge? 

Or is it a distraction? Wooyoung stares at the ground and wonders. Is that really what he and San are to each other; simply a way of pushing problems away until one or both of them breaks under the pressure? Or is it love? 

It isn't love. It can't be. 

But Wooyoung wants it to be. He may tell himself otherwise, but he knows the truth. 

Jung Wooyoung loves Choi San. 

\-----

Hongjoong hasn't left home for a while. 

By 'home,' he means the small shack behind his shop where his scarce belongings and supplies are stored. A small bed is somehow crammed in with them. It isn't much of a home, really, but it's all he has. 

His breath hitches as he moves swiftly along the streets, attempting to avoid being noticed. He keeps the hood of his cloak up to hide the piercings given him by a woman at the market who claimed to know the future. Maybe she did know the future; after all, she had told him very sadly that he was destined for a love the world would not understand. 

He would not have left his home, leaving Seonghwa alone, if he had not needed more cacao seeds. He makes his purchases as quickly as possible and is about to leave when someone catches his eye. 

He stops and stares. The blonde boy stares back, only about two feet away from Hongjoong's face. 

"Something wrong?" He questions. 

"Nothing." Hongjoong shakes his head. "It's just... your hair color isn't natural, is it?" 

"No," the boy says airily. "Some old lady gave it to me." 

Hongjoong pauses. "Was she missing an eyebrow? Did she claim to know the future?" 

"Yes." The boy looks surprised. "Do you know her?" 

"I do. She gave me my ear-rings." 

"Wooyoung," the boys says. 

"Hm?" 

The boy just stares blankly. 

"Hongjoong," Hongjoong replies softly, and they part ways. 

He doesn't know what was special about the meeting, but he walks home in an odd sort of trance. 

He has the feeling he hasn't seen the last of Wooyoung.


	10. with every loss we gain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiss me in the pouring rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize beforehand for the extra swearing
> 
> and San smoking
> 
> and Woosan drinking but that's just vaguely mentioned

Hongjoong writes off his meeting with Wooyoung as nothing important. 

Truthfully, he can't shake the feeling that Wooyoung will play some sort of role in his future life, but for now he chooses to ignore that thought and focus on the present, on things that are happening here and now. Like how Seonghwa is looking at him with wide, sparkly eyes that melt his heart into a puddle of chocolate. 

"You were gone longer than you told me you would be," Seonghwa scolds. He adds, softer, "I missed you." 

Hongjoong laughs and presses a kiss to Seonghwa's jaw. "I was only gone two hours." 

"It felt longer." 

"That, dear, is because you are lazy and have no hobbies." 

"Or maybe I just don't like being away from you." 

Hongjoong doesn't know how to respond to that. He smiles shakily. 

"Should I not say that?" 

He freezes and looks back at Seonghwa. 

The taller looks worried. "You know how I feel, Hongjoong. About you. Do you want me to stop saying these things?" 

"Yes," Hongjoong snaps, before he can stop himself. He instantly regrets it when he sees how his harsh tone makes Seonghwa flinch. 

"All right," Seonghwa says in a small voice, and turns to go back into the shack. 

"I'm sorry," Hongjoong says. 

Seonghwa stops. "What?" 

Hongjoong begins to turn. "I said I'm so-" he cuts off as he hears noises. Like hundreds of pebbles falling from the heavens. He feels a smile creep over his face. It's raining. 

"Let's go outdoors," he says. 

"In the rain?" 

"Yes, in the rain." Hongjoong strips away his jacket and throws off his shoes and stockings. Seonghwa stares before slowly following his example. "What are we doing?" 

"Preparing," Hongjoong says. "I can beat you in a mud fight." 

"No, you can't." 

They rush outside like children, temporarily forgetting all that was wrong, casting all worries aside. Hongjoong scoops up a handful of mud and hurls it at Seonghwa, who squeaks in the most precious way when it hits his shoulder. He retaliates incredibly quickly, though, and soon both boys are soaked through, covered in mud, and laughing like they haven't a care in the world. 

"God," Hongjoong breathes out, "you're fucking beautiful even like this." He doesn't know where the words come from, but he doesn't stop them. "I've waited too damn long for this. Kiss me." 

Seonghwa doesn't hesitate. He places both hands on Hongjoong's cheeks, cupping his face and tilting it upward. Their lips meet in a passionate kiss, rain pouring down all around them, washing them clean of mud and plastering Hongjoong's hair to the sides of his face. No one is outside to see them, but Hongjoong doubts it would matter if they were. He wraps his arms around Seonghwa and clings to him, letting his mind go blank as they kiss like it's their last day on earth. After all, who knows? It could be. 

\----

San doesn't believe in praying.

He used to, up until yesterday. But not anymore. His sister is dead, in spite of his pleas, how he begged God to keep her alive. She's gone. 

Wooyoung can't even attend her funeral; the rivalry doesn't allow it. He would be thrown out in a second. However, as soon as the burial is over, San seeks him out. 

He lets his head drop onto the blonde's shoulder. Wooyoung is silent, but he radiates compassion, empathy. He knows. He feels. He understands. 

"I'm so sorry," San says. 

For what? Why is he apologizing? Who the hell cares, anyway? San lifts his head and lights his cigar with as much aggression as possible. 

Wooyoung snatches it away and puts it out. When San looks at him, enraged, he stares right back without flinching. 

"I won't have you killing yourself now too," he says. 

"Smoking is good for health, the doctors say." 

"What the doctors say is a load of bullshit. If you need a distraction, I got a bottle I haven't opened back at my.... where I live. You drink?" 

"I used to. I could use it right now." 

"Then follow me." 

Wooyoung turns on his heel and stalks away, not looking back. He knows San will follow; he doesn't even need to check. San feels ridiculous, because he is following. Just as Wooyoung was sure he would. 

But if it takes being exactly what Jung Wooyoung expects to get it all off his mind, he'll do it. He'll be anything. Anything Wooyoung wants. Anything he needs. 

For at the moment, all San wants or needs is an escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANSWER NVJDSHCJLFSGKLV WHEN I SAY SOTY
> 
> ATEEZ KINGS
> 
> I REPEAT
> 
> ATEEZ KINGS ANSWER SOTY AAAAAHHHH


	11. deja vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> twists and turns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> geonbae   
> haja  
> like a  
> thunder

Yunho remembers the first time Mingi kissed him. 

They were twelve years old, sitting on Mingi's balcony watching the sun set. Yunho was shy, because he so rarely got to be alone with Mingi like this. He wanted to talk, but he was scared Mingi would tell and Yunho would end up in trouble for letting the younger outside without a coat. So he stayed silent, picking at loose string on his shirt, staring at Mingi, who was looking dreamily at the horizon. 

"I wish we were the same," he said suddenly. 

Yunho had understood, but he had been too afraid to admit it. As an answer, he had put his already awkwardly large hand on Mingi's shoulder. 

"I'm glad we're friends," Mingi had continued, making Yunho squeak. "I don't have many friends. You're my favorite." 

He stood up and pulled Yunho to his feet. "It's cold. Let's go inside." 

"All right," Yunho had said quietly. 

Mingi had looked at him with a thoughtful look in his eyes. Then he had stood on tiptoe- Yunho grew tall much earlier than Mingi did- and very sweetly kissed Yunho's cheek. 

"Good night," he had chirped, and left for bed. 

It's sunset now, the sky painted a vibrant mix of pink, yellow, red and orange. Mingi is stretched out on the bed, reading a book. Yunho is buzzing around the room putting away Mingi's things. 

"You don't have to do that," Mingi drawls. 

"It's my job," is all Yunho says. 

"I can clean my own room. Stop doing it." 

Yunho puts down the towel he's holding. "If you want me to leave, you could just say so." 

"What?" Mingi puts down his book, looking startled. "That's not what I meant! I don't want you to feel like this is just, I don't know, a job... like we're not friends." 

"Of course we're friends," Yunho says. "I just.... I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing." 

"What you're supposed to be doing right now is sitting with me. Come here." 

Yunho grins and flings himself onto the bed next to Mingi, who rolls his eyes dramatically. "You are an idiot," he announces. 

"So are you. Sir." They both laugh at this. 

Mingi throws an arm around Yunho's shoulder and plants another of those casual kisses on his temple. "Talk to me. I'm bored." 

So Yunho talks. Talking to Mingi is never a challenge, because he'll listen to anything and everything that Yunho may have to say. Halfway through Yunho's talk about a dog he saw in the street earlier, Mingi pulls a chocolate drop out of nowhere and pops it into his mouth. 

Yunho stops. "Where did you get that?" 

"Cook bought some from a boy at the market," Mingi says. "I stole some. Want one?" 

"Do I!" 

They spend the next hour laughing, talking and eating chocolates. Yunho thinks back on what Mingi said so many years ago, and he feels that Mingi was wrong. I wish we were the same...

They are the same, really. It may not seem so at first, but on the inside, they are the same. 

\----

Hongjoong expected things to change after that day. 

However, they don't change much. His routine stays the same, his conversations with Seonghwa stay much the same, most of his time is spent exactly how it always was. But where his evenings were once spent listlessly lying in bed next to a quiet, often shivering Seonghwa, they are now filled with kisses and murmers and gentle, loving touches. Things have barely changed, but the existing changes are good ones.

Hongjoong worries, though, about what the future will hold for them. Seonghwa is in hiding, and if anyone saw what was going on between them, their lives would be in ruins. He shudders at the thought. The world is a terrifying place to be. 

Seonghwa is asleep right now, his expression peaceful, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling to a steady rhythm. Hongjoong smiles at the sight, but he feels a pang. He can't bear the idea of anything happening to someone so precious. 

Hongjoong thinks back to how they met. Seonghwa would come every day to buy candy, but one day when he appeared at Hongjoong's door, it was different. He was afraid, lonely, and needed someone to hold him. Why, exactly, he came to the candy shop of all places is something Hongjoong may never know, but he's glad of it. It sparked a beautiful friendship that grew gradually into something even more. 

He leans down to kiss Seonghwa's cheek. The elder sighs in his sleep, reaching out to wrap and arm around Hongjoong, who can't help but smile. The future way be a scary thing, but he's satisfied with the present for now. 

\---

San can't breathe. 

Or, he can, but it feels wrong. He feels choked, like something is pressing on his throat. What's happening? 

A figure looms over him, dark and menacing. A voice cuts through the air, grating on his ears. San knows that voice...

He sits up abruptly. Wooyoung lies next to him, unaware that San is awake. San can breathe again, he's awake and the nightmare is over, but something is still wrong. He gets up quietly and slips outside, hurrying down the street to the market. He doesn't know why, but it seems like a good refuge. 

Then he stops. He feels an overwhelming sense of deja vu, abruptly remembering the night he saw that man in the graveyard. He sees people. But it's not just one now; there are two people, wrapped in a lover's embrace, heads bent in a way that could only mean they're kissing. San inhales deeply. 

They're two young men. One is small, with smooth hair colored a dark grey, artificial if his youthful face says anything. The other is what catches San's eye, however, because it's actually him, the man in the graveyard. He has a little more hair now, but the brand is still clearly visible. 

San does exactly what he did that night; he turns around and leaves. This time, however, he makes a note in his head to return, to see those two again. He doesn't know why, but he feels compelled to talk to them. 

He slips back into bed and falls at last into a dreamless sleep.


	12. connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San has things to say

For probably the hundredth time this month, San finds himself wondering what he's doing. 

He's standing outside a small shack that could barely be called a house, fist poised to knock on the door. He realizes he doesn't know what the hell he's going to say to the men inside. How is he planning to explain this? It was a stupid idea. 

He knocks anyway. 

The door is opened by a small young man with a pleasant smile. San recognizes him as the grey-haired boy from last night. 

"May I help you?" He inquires. 

"I need to come in," San says, then frowns. "I mean- may I come in? I need to- to talk to you." 

The man glances nervously over his shoulder, biting his lip. 

"I saw him," San says under his breath. "I know he's here." 

The man takes a step back. "You're not taking him anywhere." 

"I'm not trying to," San defends. "I don't even know who he is." 

The man looks him up and down, then sighs, a visible shudder of worry running through his body. "I'll let you in, but if you so much as lay a hand on him I'm throwing you out. Don't tell a soul you saw him." 

San doesn't bother telling the man that he's too small to throw anyone out. "I won't tell anyone. I'm not here to hurt him." 

As an answer, the man steps out of the way and gestures for San to enter. 

He does, slowly, eyes glancing quickly around the room. He sees the other man right away, curled up in a chair looking around with frightened eyes. San forces a small half smile. 

"My name is Choi San," he says. "And I saw you two together last night." 

Well, that wasn't how he intended to begin this. 

The taller is on his feet in an instant, expression mirroring his companion's- panic. San almost laughs. 

"Don't think too much on it," he says carelessly. "I would be a hypocrite to judge you for it." 

"...What?" The taller man breathes, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He reaches out to take the shorter's hand, the gesture tugging San's heartstrings because it makes him think of Wooyoung. 

"I came because I didn't want to be alone," San says. "My Woo- I mean, there's a boy I know, and I don't know- I don't know how to say this," he mutters, head dropping into his hands. 

"You love him," The shorter says. 

He phrases it as a statement, rather than a question. 

"Yes," San says, letting out the breath he's been holding in. "Yes, and I don't know what to do because we can't be together, we just can't, and what if he doesn't see me the way I see him?" He feels tears gathering in his eyes. "This is ridiculous. I'm burdening you with the weight of all my problems, and I don't even know your names." 

"I can fix that," the shorter says, smiling ever so slightly. He extends a hand to shake San's. "Hongjoong." San shakes. 

The taller looks reluctant to reveal his identity, but he holds a hand out as well. "I'm Seonghwa." 

San shakes his hand too, inhaling deeply and straightening up. He still feels like an idiot, but somewhat less now that they're not total strangers. 

"Let me ask you something," Hongjoong says. 

He makes firm eye contact with San and asks gently, "Are you all right?" 

Is he? 

San wets his lips nervously. 

"I don't know," he says truthfully. 

"If you need someone," Hongjoong's hand rests on Seonghwa's hip and the gesture makes San feel so alone, "we're here. I've been told," he adds lightly, "I can be very useful as emotional support." He smiles. "And he's the sweetest person you could ever meet. So if you need help, you know where to come." 

"Thank you," San murmers, and he escapes. 

He doesn't know, truly, if he feels better. Seeing the way they so clearly cared for each other made him think it was possible, maybe, for him and Wooyoung as well, but knowing that outside that building their entire dynamic had to change just made his heart ache. He thinks back to what he nearly slipped up and said. 

My Wooyoung. 

But Wooyoung isn't his. He may never be. 

San's walk turns to a run. 

\----

To tell the truth, Yeosang doesn't want to find Seonghwa. 

He also has a feeling Seonghwa doesn't want to be found. 

Yeora seems to have been affected terribly by the news that her fiance is gone, but Yeosang's life hasn't really changed at all. The two still take lessons, still pay polite visits, still sleep in their warm beds at night. And Yeosang still ponders his complicated feelings for his best friend. 

Jongho has been a fixed part of Yeosang's life ever since the younger was born. Their families are close friends, and it was like destiny, Yeosang's mother says, that the others should have a son so close to Yeosang's age. God gave you a best friend right away, she tells him. Yeosang is glad of it. 

He doesn't feel like they were forced into friendship; he and Jongho fit together naturally. Their personalities are a drastic contrast to each other, it's true, but at the same time they match up perfectly. It really is like destiny. 

They're sitting on the riverbank now, shoes and stockings discarded, feet resting on the pebbles that make a rocky sort of carpet underneath the water. Yeosang feels the breeze in his clothes, whipping through his hair. He feels peaceful. 

"You look thoughtful," Jongho says. "Something on your mind?" 

"Us," Yeosang says simply. 

Jongho looks like he's trying to think of a response, so Yeosang teases, "What are you thinking about, your girl friend?" 

"I don't have one," Jongho says quickly, ears turning red. Yeosang's lips quirk into a small smile. 

"Is there anyone you have your eyes on?" 

"No," Jongho says firmly. "If I looked at any girl, it would be Yeora." He doesn't give Yeosang a chance to protest before adding, "because she looks like you." 

Yeosang truly doesn't know what to say to that. 

So he says nothing, turning again to look out over the river. He wonders just how many moments of his life would have gone differently if he hadn't opted to remain silent. 

Probably many. Too many. 

Yeosang doesn't feel so peaceful now.


	13. too close for comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're in danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so like.... Horizon performance aaaaahhhhh
> 
> This is the chapter where the 'implied sexual content' tag starts being used lmAo
> 
> I guess it's more heavily implied than I intended-

It's nearing midnight when Seonghwa hears a knock. 

He sits up abruptly, eyes wide, heart pounding in his chest. Hongjoong is already on his feet, and with a hissed command for Seonghwa to hide, he approaches the door. 

Seonghwa goes under the bed. He can't think of a better place to stay hidden. 

"Excuse me?" At first Seonghwa had hoped the intruder was San, but no such luck. This voice is deeper and harsher, and it grates on his ears. Seonghwa shudders. 

"The fuck do you want?" Hongjoong growls. 

"Sources tell me," the man says, "you're hiding someone we've been looking for." His voice turns horribly cold. "We're here for Park Seonghwa." 

San. 

San must have said something. 

Seonghwa is ready to snap the boy's neck. 

"Who the fuck is that?" Hongjoong sounds disdainful. "And what the hell makes you think I, of all people, would know where he is?" 

"Don't play dumb. You're not fooling anyone." 

"I'm not trying to. I'm only telling the damn truth. Go look for your fugitive somewhere else." 

"Nothing bad is going to happen to him," the man coaxes. "He's getting sent somewhere nice, where they'll fix him. Give him up, and we won't hurt him." 

"I can't give you what I don't have," Hongjoong says flatly. "The hell do you mean, fix him? Is he hurt? Ill?" 

"He's not.... right in the head," the man says. "Now tell me where he's hiding." 

"I've said it already and I'll say it again. I'm not hiding any mental patients around my home. Get lost." 

The man is silent for a moment. Then he growls, "I'll give you one week to turn him in, else karma's coming your way." 

"Good fucking bye," Hongjoong slams the door in his face. Seonghwa hears the click of the lock. 

"It's safe," Hongjoong whispers, and Seonghwa crawls out of his hiding place. Hongjoong's eyes are full of tears. He looks terrified. 

"I'm so sorry, love," he murmers. "I'm so sorry." 

Wordlessly, Seonghwa pulls Hongjoong into his arms. The younger man cries silently, gripping onto Seonghwa like he's all he has left in the world. He holds on so tightly that it hurts, but Seonghwa doesn't stop him. He just stays still. 

Hongjoong sits up at last, drying his tears. "How did they know? How could they have possibly found you?" 

"San," Seonghwa whispers. "San must have told." 

"He wouldn't," Hongjoong says, horrified. "'He's only a child..." 

"Children do what they think is right, regardless of whether it is," Seonghwa says sadly. "I'm sure he didn't want to hurt anyone." 

"Could they have found... from your book... didn't you write about me?" 

"Not by name," Seonghwa says softly. 

Hongjoong's face falls even further. He looks so heartbroken that Seonghwa wants to cry too. 

"I'll turn myself in," he blurts out. "I don't care. I'll do it. I'll let them take me wherever they want, I'll-" 

"No," Hongjoong gasps out. "No you fucking won't. You can't just give up like that." 

"It's not giving up," Seonghwa says. "I just want to keep you safe." 

"It's not worth it." 

"Hongjoong, if I don't do this, they're going to hurt you. I can't let that happen." 

"What, you think I want to see you get hurt?" 

"Hongjoong, just let me do this, please. I've broken a lot of rules, I've made a disgrace of myself, but you've never done anything to deserve this. Please. Just let me protect you." 

Hongjoong looks caught between horrible sadness and anger. "You can't do this, Seonghwa, you can't. Why are you so determined to shield me?" 

"Because I-" 

"Don't say it, Hwa, not now," and Hongjoong begins to cry again. It tears at Seonghwa's heart to see him like this. He presses his lips to Hongjoong's temple, closing his eyes. For a moment, he pretends nothing is wrong. His heart swells with love for the man he's holding in his arms. 

Hongjoong lifts his head. He takes hold of a fistful of Seonghwa's shirt, pulling him downward and crashing their lips together. This is nothing like how they've kissed before; it's rough, raw, and they're both pouring out their entire hearts, all the pain, all the sorrow, the love and the anger they've been holding back all this time. 

They rise clumsily to their feet, stumbling across the room to collapse onto the bed. Seonghwa takes hold of Hongjoong's hair, and the younger makes a noise between pleasure and pain, pulling back to gasp in a breath before they connect in a kiss again. 

Seonghwa, being who he is, takes the time to carefully undo the buttons of Hongjoong's shirt, casting it aside onto the chair. Hongjoong is less neat with Seonghwa's, but he could hardly care less. It really doesn't matter, anyway. 

Outside, a heavy mist has fallen. If one were to step out into it, they might never find their way back. There's a painful kind of biting cold in the air, despite there being no wind. It's exactly the kind of night for awful things to happen. 

And it's exactly the kind of night to love someone just like this, with a passion that burns at one's heart. And Seonghwa does love Hongjoong, so much, so much that it hurts him; and tonight, though Hongjoong may have begged him not to say the words yet, he shows the other just how much he cares, how he would go to the ends of the earth for him. Words fail to express what Seonghwa feels, and where words fail, actions replace. 

Even the sound of Hongjoong's breathing is a kind of music to Seonghwa, and there's nothing in the world more magical than how the other says his name. If this is truly wrong, the way the world around them says it is, if they're truly committing some kind of sin, then Seonghwa will renounce everything good in this world, and go to the dark side gladly. It should never have to hurt to love someone. They should never have to be scorned for wanting to show it. 

Hongjoong says Seonghwa's name in a way he never has before, and though it shouldn't have to hurt to love someone, it does. It hurts Seonghwa's heart so badly, he's drowning in the pain, drowning in his need to stay by Kim Hongjoong's side, to love him, to be with him forever. 

He's drowning in his own desire. And he doesn't care. 

\----

It isn't until San nearly passes out on the street that he realizes how thirsty he is. 

Wooyoung looks at him in horror before rushing to get water, returning almost right away to force the cool liquid between San's cracked lips. He croaks out a "Thank you," steadying himself and drawing in a deep breath. His head clears. 

"Be careful," Wooyoung says, and San nods. He won't take the advice, and Wooyoung knows it, but he still tries, clinging to the hope that one day San will finally begin to take care of himself. 

They arrive at the market. San leads Wooyoung right away to the candy shop. He knocks on the door and plasters on a smile. 

Hongjoong peers out, takes one look at him and starts to slam the door. Then he stops, pauses, stares in disbelief. "Wooyoung?" 

"Hongjoong," Wooyoung says incredulously. 

They're acquainted? 

Hongjoong's face twists and darkens. "So you're involved too." 

He turns to pin a furious gaze on San. "What the hell were you thinking?" 

"What?" San says faintly. 

"You know what you did. Get out." 

"I didn't-" the door closes in his face. San feels tears well up in his eyes. 

He trudged around to the back of the shop, out of sight from the rest of the market. Wooyoung follows silently. 

The back window is open. San doesn't mean to intrude, but he can't help hearing the conversation going on inside.

His heart nearly stops. 

So Seonghwa is wanted. Just as San thought. And someone has found him. 

And now, logic pins the blame on San. 

He feels faint. Wooyoung looks at him with a mix of so many emotions on his face, so many unsaid words, but in the end just takes his hand and leads him gently away. 

San isn't angry at Hongjoong and Seonghwa. He truly isn't. He's just terrified.

If this is what happens to people who love each other, what kind of fate awaits him and Wooyoung? 

San doesn't think he wants to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry lmao


	14. we all know nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a meeting of lost souls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay uh i.... just realized how damn long this thing is getting

Mingi knew the Kang family before. 

He knew Kang Yeosang and his pretty sister Yeora, many years ago, in his early childhood. He knew the secret love Yeora held close to her heart, for the now notoriously rebellious and very much missing Park Seonghwa. He knew that the family took sides with the Jungs in the long-time feud between said family and the Chois. He knew lots. 

But now, lying awkwardly on his bed with Kang Yeosang seated stiffly on his chair, he wishes he knew them better. Inwardly, he curses his family for ever allowing Yeosang to stay with them. This is going to be a long three weeks. 

"Sir," Yunho says quietly, bowing slightly. "I brought your tea." 

He places it on the table, a cup for Mingi and one for Yeosang. Nothing for him. Servants don't get luxuries. Mingi grits his teeth. 

"Thank you," he says, maybe too warmly. Yunho's cheeks turn pink. "Also, Yunho, it's just Mingi. Don't forget." 

Yunho bows again and exits. A sigh escapes Mingi's lips. He turns to see those intense dark eyes fixed on him. 

"Do you love him?" Yeosang says flatly. 

"Yunho?" Mingi glances over his shoulder. "Of course I do. He's my dearest friend." 

"Not like that," Yeosang says impatiently. "Are you in love with him?" 

"In love with him..." Mingi stares. "Why should I tell you?" He winces. "I mean, why are you curious?" 

"I'm not," Yeosang says. "But I can tell that you love him. You make it too obvious." 

Mingi sighs in defeat. "Maybe." 

Yeosang just looks at him. 

There's a silence. 

"I'm in love with Yunho," Mingi says at last. 

Yeosang nods firmly. "I thought so. Don't worry, I have no intention of spreading your secrets...." his voice trails off. 

Mingi turns. 

Yunho is standing, face pale, in the doorway, hand gripping the door frame. One look at his face tells Mingi that he heard everything. His lower lip trembles like he's about to cry. 

"Yunho-" Mingi begins. 

"I can't do this," Yunho says, and he turns around and runs. 

Mingi glances at Yeosang, who nods briefly. "Go," he says softly. 

Mingi leaps to his feet and follows. He doesn't know how he manages to get outside without being seen, but he somehow does, running after Yunho like an idiot heroine in a badly written romance novel. It's drizzling rain outside, and the air is cold. Mingi barely notices. 

"Yunho!" He calls.

He turns sharply to follow the servant through a rusty gate. He looks around, gasping for air, and realizes he's in a graveyard. 

And they are not alone. 

"Jung Wooyoung," Mingi says softly. 

"Song Mingi," the blonde echoes. "Also, it's just Wooyoung now. I'm not sure you heard." 

Behind Wooyoung stands a dark-haired boy with fierce eyes, looking around in apprehension. Mingi knows that face, too.

He almost laughs. "Choi San." 

"Lovely to see you, I don't know you," the young man says flatly. 

In Mingi's head, Yeosang's voice says, "Don't get sidetracked, Mingi. What are you here for?" 

Yunho is standing close to Mingi, staring in the other direction. 

"We'll go," Wooyoung murmers, and he tugs San after him. 

"Yunho," Mingi says. 

"I can't." 

"Why not?" 

"Because I'm- I'm me," Yunho's face drops into his hands. "You're rich and important. I'm poor and worthless. It only works in novels, Mingi, not real life." 

"How do you know?" Mingi finds his voice. "You've never tried." 

Yunho raises his head. He looks unbearably cute in spite of the tears in his eyes. 

"Come here," Mingi says. 

Yunho obeys. 

"Don't obey me." 

"How- how do I disobey that?" 

Mingi bursts out laughing, and Yunho begins to smile faintly. It feels familiar, welcoming. 

"I don't know," Mingi admits, and he kisses Yunho. 

It should be raining, to make the situation dramatic. Or the sun should burst from behind the clouds. But nothing visibly changes, other than the bright red color creeping up Yunho's neck. Inside, though, Mingi feels like he's on fire. 

He pulls back, satisfied. "You have.... oddly soft cheeks." 

Yunho's eyes open wide. Mingi laughs again. 

"Come on, let's get back home. It's late." 

...

San holds Wooyoung's hand all the way home. Neither speaks. 

At last, they reach Wooyoung's small house, slipping through the door and over the creaking floor to the bed. San is dead tired. 

It's pitch black. San is just drifting off to sleep when Wooyoung's voice interrupts. 

"Remember," Wooyoung says, "when we promised that if asked to do something crazy, we would do it?" 

"I remember." 

"Will you kiss me goodnight?" 

San kisses Wooyoung's forehead lightly. "Sleep well." 

"Idiot," Wooyoung says in annoyance. His hand comes up to touch the back of San's neck, and then out of nowhere San feels the touch of soft lips against his own. 

He's speechless even after Wooyoung pulls away, eyes wide and unblinking. He thinks he hears a giggle. 

"Good night," Wooyoung says. 

San echoes it blankly. "Good night." 

He thinks he may already be dreaming. 

...

The news that in the night, a ship bound for another continent sailed away over the sea doesn't have much of an affect on many people.

But San knows who was on it. He doesn't know how they found a way, or whether they're even legally allowed to be on board, or if they'll be all right. Truth be told, he barely knew them. But it stings. 

He wanders around the little shack listelessly, looking at everything with teary eyes. They left with good reason; they were saving their own lives. He doesn't blame them at all. 

He stops, something catching his eye. A small white envelope is stuck under the bed post, with a name scribbled carelessly on it. 

His name. 

He opens the letter and reads, 

"Dear San. 

I take it upon myself to apologize for accusing you. In reality, there is no proof in any form that our struggles are to be blamed on you. My dearest has also voiced his sincere apologies for how he treated you, though he doesn't know how to write very well. When you read this, we'll be gone. Don't miss us. Wherever we are, it doesn't affect you, or your life, at all. Find happiness with your Wooyoung. Make a life for yourself. Forget us if you can. If you can't, don't dwell on it. 

Sincerely, Park Seonghwa. 

P.S this letter makes it seem as though we'll be dead. If everything goes our way, that shouldn't happen." 

San laughs, and then he cries, and then he laughs again. So they're gone, they really are gone. Hongjoong and Seonghwa are gone. He kisses the letter and tears it up, hurling the pieces to the wind, eyes stinging. 

He barely knew the two. 

He hopes they're happy. 

The pieces of the letter look like snowflakes in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sORRY ABOUT THE ENDING LOL


	15. it isn't the end of the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San and Wooyoung find happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're almost to the end :D

San doesn't tell Wooyoung about Hongjoong and Seonghwa. 

He doesn't see the point. They're gone, either to their deaths, to suffering, or to happiness. Their love for each other drove them out of the only home they had ever known, and that hurts like hell. 

San hasn't returned to his own home in weeks. He doesn't intend to go back. 

His father isn't looking for him. He doesn't care about San, not since the illness struck and San's mother and sister fell sick with it. His father changed forever after that. San's scars prove this well enough. 

Wooyoung reaches out a hand and takes San's. "Darling, do you know Yeosang?" 

"I don't." 

"He was a good friend of mine, before I was- er- disowned. We still.... we talk when we can." Wooyoung rarely mentions what happened with him and his family. San is silent. 

"He, um-" Wooyoung glances at the floor. "He has a- a house, a summer home out in the country. It's for him and his sister only. It's spacious and comfortable and he doesn't use it, and he..." 

"If you say what I think you're about to say-" 

"He gave it to me," Wooyoung bursts out, and San nearly screams. He wonders if he's been given some sort of angelic blessing, first finding Wooyoung, now finding a home. A real home, for him and Wooyoung, where he could be happy. They could be happy. 

"That's a clear yes," San manages, and Wooyoung kisses him.

A home. A life, away from the looks of disgust he's so tired of seeing. A place they can be in love and happy. How could he possibly say no? 

...

Yeosang smiles when Wooyoung tells him the news, yes, he'll take the house. He's glad of it. 

"You really gave away a house? Yeosang, you must be crazy. Does Yeora know?" Jongho takes an extremely impolite chug of his water, eyes wide. 

"She knows. She doesn't care." 

"Huh. I would." 

He sounds disgusted. Yeosang gives him an odd look. 

"Something wrong?" 

"Nothing. Nothing at all. I love watching you spoil your ex-friends with houses. Great." 

"He's still my friend. Why are you so upset?" 

Jongho slams down his glass. "Do you love Wooyoung?" 

"As a friend-" Yeosang starts. 

"You gave him a house. You can't even give me one second of your attention. Do you love him?" 

"I don't. Not like that." Yeosang straightens up. "Jongho, you are acting like a spoiled child. I'm disappointed in you." 

"Don't I have the right to know if my best friend doesn't care about me anymore?" 

"Of course I care!" Yeosang says angrily. "I care too much about you! Don't you understand? You're not stupid." 

"Too much? You're damn bad at showing it." Jongho jumps up and stalks to the door. 

"Jongho, what is wrong with you?" 

Jongho whirls. His eyes are red, like he's been crying. "I'm so sick of hearing that question!" 

The door slams. Yeosang feels like all the air has been knocked out of his lungs. 

He picks up Wooyoung's note, the one accepting the house, and stares at it. 

You can't even give me one second of your attention.

If only Jongho knew just how much of Yeosang's attention was focused entirely on him. 

...

Yeosang can't believe this. 

Jongho's gone away. Not just away for a few days, or weeks, months or even a year or two, he's left forever, moved out of Yeosang's life. Yeosang can't believe he'd do this over a petty argument; he knows Jongho too well. There's something more, another reason why Jongho made this decision. 

He wants to talk to Wooyoung, but the blonde and his fierce-eyed lover have already left for Yeosang's summer home in the country. Wooyoung is gone out of Yeosang's life too. 

Yeora, as much as he loves her, could never understand. She doesn't know how to deal with these things, how to react. She can't help him sort out his feelings or solve the puzzle of why Jongho left so suddenly. She can't help. 

Yeosang only has one person left to turn to now. 

...

"You needed help and advice, and of all people you came to me?" 

"I didn't have anyone else." 

Mingi pops a candy into his mouth. "Well, you should be warned that I am the absolute worst at giving advice." 

"It's not advice, exactly, I need comfort." 

Mingi turns. "Yunho?" 

The servant appears, looking nervous. 

"Yeosang needs comfort. You're great at that." 

That's how Yeosang finds himself spilling out the whole story into Yunho's shoulder, and Mingi was right to say the taller man was comforting; Yunho knows exactly what to do and say to make Yeosang feel so much better. He leaves in a considerably lighter mood, but he still doesn't understand, though he desperately wants to. 

He wonders if Jongho hates him. That thought breaks his heart. 

In spite of all his efforts, Yeosang cries himself to sleep.


	16. in the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know how to summarize this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brooo it's the end lmao. I have to clean up the mess i made
> 
> also, time skip! five years into the future

Wooyoung tosses his coat onto the chair and calls with forced cheerfulness, "I'm home!" 

He hears San's yell from two rooms away. "How was your day?" 

"Terrible!" 

San appears in the doorway, looking concerned. "Are you all right?" 

He approaches to put his arms around Wooyoung and gives him a quick, soft kiss. "Did something happen?" 

"I have news," Wooyoung says quietly. "You may not like it." 

"What?" San's eyes are full of fear. Wooyoung wants to cry. 

"They- they found your brother. He's dead." 

San sinks onto the sofa, clasping his hands together. He stares down at the floor with tears sparkling in his eyes. Wooyoung sits next to him and silently wraps the older man in his arms. 

"Will you be all right?" He asks softly. 

"I will." San lifts his gaze from the floor. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't get to see him again, I'm sorry he's gone, but Wooyoung..." San turns to look him in the eye. "I will be all right. That's a promise." 

He smiles, his dimples appearing. "I love you, you know. I love everything about you, everything that reminds me of you. The air you breath, the ground you walk on. I love you more than I can ever say." 

Wooyoung dries his tears. "I love you too." 

They spend hours locked silently in each other's embrace. And it's exactly what Wooyoung wants forever. 

...

The sea is a wild place. The island is nearly as wild. 

There's only one city on the island, buildings scattered on the outskirts, buildings full of people who don't care what others think. There are stores and shops, providing whatever is needed daily. There's a factory, too, where clothes are made. The island isn't a bad place to live, really. 

Every evening a small, dark-haired man walks his way home from his shop, tired and sweaty but satisfied with his work. He steps through his door and into the dimly lit interior of his house, his home, the place he's the happiest. 

He's met by a taller man, with a soft voice and a striking, handsome face. Dark, silky hair falls over one eye, no sign of the crudely shaved mark on the back of his head ; and an ever-present smile lights up his perfect features. He's home, even more than the house and the island are; Seonghwa has always been Hongjoong's home. 

The life they lived before, spent hiding and lying and wishing it was all over, is long gone, buried far down under where it can never be reached. There is no reason in the world why they should ever want to reach it. 

Choi San and Jung Wooyoung are but the faintest memory in the minds of these two men, but they can never be forgotten entirely. Hongjoong wishes every day that he had just given San another chance, allowed him to speak, to explain. Seonghwa tells him that it's all right. San has likely long since forgiven him. 

Leaving the place he called home may have been hard, but it was the best decision Hongjoong ever made. He's found the truth now; home really is where the heart is. 

And Hongjoong's heart, of course, is forever with Seonghwa. 

...

Mingi sits in silence in the darkened room, staring at the wall. 

There's a lot to think about. Four years ago, he was married to a woman named Chaeyoun, a good friend and companion but never a lover. She's gone now. The illness caught her within a year of their arranged marriage, and mere days ago she passed from this world at last. 

Mingi will miss her. They may not have been in love, but she was a great friend, and her absence will leave a hole in his heart. He blinks away tears. 

"Sir?" 

He chokes on a sob. "I told you not to call me that." 

"Mingi." 

Then Yunho's arms are around him, and Mingi lets himself cry. There's too much to cry about. He cries for Chaeyoun, he cries for Yeosang who left two years ago for another country, he cries because he is a coward who is too afraid to take risks for the person he loves. Yunho doesn't say a word. He doesn't need to. 

Mingi dries his eyes at last, and sits up. Yunho looks at him in silence. 

"I love you," Mingi tells him. 

Yunho just looks at him. At last he speaks. All he says is "I love you too." 

"Let's leave. Run away together. I can't take it anymore." 

"Is that what you want?" 

It isn't. 

"I don't want to leave," Mingi says at last. "But I don't want to stay if it means I can't have you." 

"Then make a third option." Yunho runs his hand through Mingi's hair. "Stay, and be with me. You don't have to tell. No one has to know, Mingi." 

"But I don't want to keep you a secret." 

"If that's what needs to happen, Mingi, that's what's going to happen." 

He'll do it. 

If it's the best they can manage, he'll do it. For Yunho. 

Yunho giggles. "Why are you making that face?" 

"I'm not making any face!" 

They dissolve into laughter. 

Maybe, Mingi thinks, it is all right. 

...

He stares apprehensively at the gate. 

He's still processing it, that his sister is dead and gone. He doesn't want to ever step into this graveyard again, but something seems to be compelling him to. 

He pushes open the gate and steps inside. It's the gloomiest place he's ever been in. 

He kneels in the mud by her grave, fingers clenching into fists. It's not fair. He lost his best friend, and now he lost his sister. This isn't how he planned his return home at all. 

He stands, sensing someone behind him, and turns slowly. The young man facing him looks like he's seen a ghost. 

"You came back." 

His voice is the same. 

"Oh my God, you actually came back." 

He takes a step forward. "I heard... I heard about her. I came to pay my respects. I didn't- I didn't know you came back. Should I go? Are you mad? I should leave..." He takes a step backwards, towards the gate. 

"Don't go." 

Those two words seem very powerful. 

"Don't leave me again. I understand now. I know. I know everything that went wrong, and I can't bear to watch you walk away again. Don't go." 

"I'm sorry." 

"You have nothing to be sorry for." 

They close the distance between them, practically falling into each other's arms, into an embrace that's almost painfully tight. Too many years have gone by. Too much has happened. 

There it is again. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be." 

"I love you, Yeosang." 

"I love you too, Jongho. I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dO yOu wAnT aN ePoLiGuE
> 
> I can't believe i finished this


	17. NOT AN UPDATE- epoligue/sequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...

The epoligue/sequel will be posted separately under the name Dark Before the Dawn. Thank you, dear readers <3 sorry if i kept anyone waiting!

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't my first fic by far, but it's my first on here. Excuse the spelling mistakes, i type way too fast.


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